


Search and Rescue

by xxenjoy



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Jealous Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Missing Jaskier, Non-Penetrative Sex, Worried Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, implied top geralt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:34:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25142479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxenjoy/pseuds/xxenjoy
Summary: When Jaskier doesn't show up to meet Geralt after the winter, Geralt worries something might have happened to him and enlists Eskel and Lambert to help find him.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 69
Kudos: 961





	Search and Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not great at tagging things, so if there's anything I'm missing that you think should be added, feel free to let me know!

Geralt isn't worried. He's not. It's just that it's too quiet in the evenings when everything settles and usually by this time of year Jaskier is with him, singing or nattering about nothing in particular. And Geralt isn't used to this silence, that's all. There are still the sounds of leaves blowing lightly in the wind and the inhabitants of the forest going about their nightly routines. But there's no one to talk to, should he want to, no soft tune lulling him to sleep when he can’t get his mind to settle. But that's all it is. He isn't worried. 

At least not for the first week. After that, he keeps closer to town in the hopes that he'll find Jaskier at a tavern somewhere - just to make certain he's okay. The bard has no obligation, after all, to traipse around after him - as much as he claims to enjoy it. 

But a few more weeks pass and the cool spring air gives way to warmer weather and still, Geralt hasn't so much as heard from his companion. Which is very out of character for someone who rarely leaves his side when not forced to. But he's not worried because Jaskier is a grown man who can care for himself - in theory - and likely he's still holed up with whichever countess or duchess he spent this winter with. Not that the thought gives him much peace or stops him from wondering about the bard, when he lies awake, and why Jaskier hasn't returned to him. 

And every new contract comes with a new fear that something really is wrong. Jaskier can take care of himself, yes, but in cities. Out in the wilderness, he's only made it this long because he's had Geralt with him to keep away anything that might want to eat him. And when he thinks about it, it actually is quite odd that Jaskier hasn't shown up by now considering he's been on time every other spring. And so, sleeplessly staring up at the stars, Geralt decides to go find him. Not because he misses his company, but because Jaskier is soft and human and that makes him vulnerable. He just needs to make sure he's still alive. So, for the first time since leaving Kaer Morhen, Geralt finds his way to an inn. 

He's still fairly far north, but they agreed to meet along the Pontar, keeping to the northern banks so neither would unintentionally pass the other. Part of him feels he shouldn't stray so far from, but Jaskier has already proven not to have kept to their agreement, so he veers from his usual path, making for Murivel. 

The innkeeper is surprisingly friendly, and despite him having no information to offer about Jaskier, Geralt pays for a room. He asks around the inn and no one else has seen or heard of the bard, either. A few of them shy away when Geralt approaches them but everyone seems willing enough to talk to him and he isn't asked to leave, which is an improvement on other occasions. 

Piana is a very different matter. The men at the gate only let him through once he's paid a traveller's fee that he knows is a scam and the rest of the villagers are no more friendly. At the tavern, they won't even let him inside to ask about Jaskier and Geralt's heart sinks. All he wants to do is find his friend and he thinks miserably as he takes shelter from the rain that if Jaskier were with him, finding housing wouldn't be an issue. 

People like Jaskier and while it does get tiring having to put up with his constant flirting and the crowds he draws, Geralt does appreciate his way with people. Jaskier can talk anyone into giving them a room, even if just a shed out back. But it's a roof over their head and something Geralt rarely enjoys when he's alone. 

When it's made clear that Geralt is no longer welcome in the city, he leaves by the main road, keeping to the river. Along the way, he asks at any town and village he passes through to see if anyone has seen or heard from Jaskier. He's optimistic; Jaskier is a whirlwind and not easy to pass by or mistake for someone else. If he's been through here, someone will have seen him. But no one recognizes his name, nor his description and Geralt only makes it as far as Rinde before he starts to lose hope. 

Maybe something did happen to him. He's travelled along the river dozens of times, but maybe this time he was unlucky. Geralt of all people knows that all it takes is one misstep for a drowner to get the better of you, and if they're in large groups- He shuts his eyes and grits his teeth, willing the imagery away. No, that can't be it. There has to be a better explanation, but he's going to need help if he wants to find Jaskier before much more time passes. 

So Geralt finds a room at the inn and sets up in Rinde. The place leaves a bad taste in his mouth, the memories of the djinn still buried in the back of his mind, but it's a halfway point of sorts. If Jaskier is still coming, Geralt will meet him here. And if he doesn't get here before help does, they'll figure out something else. He pays for the room and immediately puts the word out that he needs the assistance of another Witcher if anyone has seen or heard from one. He doesn't have to wait long. 

The very next morning, Geralt is finishing his breakfast when the door to the inn bangs open and in walks Lambert with his sword over his shoulder and a shadow behind him. 

"Heard you needed some help," he smirks, sliding into the chair opposite Geralt's. "Brought a friend, hope that's okay." Geralt doesn't even have a chance to look up before Eskel leans against his shoulder. It's only been a couple of months since he's seen them, but having the two of them here already feels like a weight is lifted from his shoulders. 

"Yeah," he says, "I need to find someone."

"And you want his help?" Eskel jabs, smirking across the table at Lambert. 

"I helped you find Jad," Geralt reminds him, disregarding Eskel's comment. "And I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important." Next to him, Eskel splutters. 

"You let him go after Jad Karadin?"

"I couldn't say no," Geralt says softly, keeping his gaze on Lambert, "if it had been Jaskier I would have done the same thing. Which is why I need your help now."

"Something happen to your bard?" Lambert asks and Geralt sighs. 

"I hope not."

Eskel pulls from his side to take the seat next to Lambert, leaning over the table. "Alright, fill us in."

Geralt starts at the beginning, with the routine he and Jaskier have fallen into at the beginning of every spring. He explains how Jaskier has never failed to meet him, or leave word with the innkeepers if he has somewhere else to be, but this year he didn't show up and no one has heard from him. Geralt tries to stick to the facts, to not let on that maybe he is a little worried something might have happened to Jaskier, but the look on Lambert's face says he's not doing a very good job of it. Or maybe the other Witcher just knows him too well. 

"So how long has it been?" Lambert asks.

"Weeks."

"Doesn't sound great," Eskel says, drawing Geralt's tankard toward him and taking a swig. Geralt huffs and takes it back.

"I didn't ask you here because I thought he was holed up somewhere," he says. Eskel gives him a look, slightly hesitant like he wants to say something but doesn't know whether he should. 

"What?" Geralt asks a little too harshly.

"Any chance he chose not to come?"

Immediately, Geralt's stomach drops. He hadn't considered that. Everything was normal when they separated in the fall and he had just assumed things would be fine this spring. But maybe not? Maybe Jaskier had a good reason for not showing up after all and now Geralt has pulled Eskel and Lambert into this, too. Maybe he should just call it off-

"No," Lambert says firmly. Both Geralt and Eskel turn to stare at him and Lambert just shrugs. "Jaskier isn't like that. He's followed you into certain death more times than Eskel and I combined. He wouldn't do something like that."

Geralt wants to ask how Lambert can be so certain when _he_ isn't even certain, but there's a note of finality to Lambert’s voice and when Eskel shrugs and nods, Geralt sets aside his uncertainty. 

"Alright then," Eskel says, "where do we start?"

"Novigrad, I think," Geralt says. The last they spoke, Jaskier was uncertain where he planned to spend the winter, but there are a few places that seem likely. "He inherited an inn there a few years back." He realizes as he's saying it that he could have made his way there alone, but he hasn't exactly been thinking clearly lately. Neither Eskel nor Lambert mentions it. 

There are no other rooms at the inn, so the three of them make do with one, all of them have slept in worse places. In the morning, they'll head for Novigrad; Geralt will stick to the north side of the river, Lambert to the south and Eskel will head further inland along the northern side - just in case. They'll meet up again at the Rosemary and Thyme and decide where to go from there. 

Geralt should sleep, he knows this, but he can't seem to shut down his brain. He offers up the bed for Eskel and Lambert to fight over because if he's not going to sleep, he doesn't need it. Instead, he lays his blanket down in front of the fire, adds another log and lays back to look at the ceiling. 

He listens to the sounds of the inn below them, to the sound of Eskel's breath evening out as he drifts off and Lambert's a little while later. Geralt doesn't sleep, nor does his mind let him relax, running through every possible bad thing that could have happened to Jaskier. He isn't looking forward to going to Novigrad and no amount of convincing can assure him that it's the right thing to do. Because somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows why he doesn't want to go to Novigrad, who it is he's avoiding. 

Every time Jaskier spends the winter in Novigrad, he returns with stories of Priscilla, a fellow bard and one of his many recurring lovers. Geralt can't quite put his finger on what it is about her that he doesn't like, but he's not looking forward to the prospect running into her. And it hasn't escaped his mind - especially after Eskel's comment earlier in the evening - that Jaskier may have chosen to stay with her, the thought of which leaves him feeling uncomfortably hollow. Not that he would ever blame Jaskier for the choice; another bard and an inn in the city are a much better life for him than a Witcher companion out on the road. It doesn't stop him from feeling uneasy about it. 

Dawn is only an hour away when Geralt's eyes finally drop shut and he knows he won't sleep for long, but he's exhausted now from thinking all night and any peace is better than none. Especially if his future entails finally meeting the infamous Priscilla. Which is something he's certain he'll have to do and something he's very much not looking forward to. 

Geralt watches the sun rise, having been woken up by a scuffle outside the inn and he's prepared to leave long before his companions wake. He leaves Eskel and Lambert to eat and makes his way outside to ready the horses, eager for anything to calm the restless energy coursing through him. He takes extra care with Roach, feeding her the remainder of the apple from his own breakfast and running his fingers through her mane. 

He doesn't have long to wait alone with his impatience before Eskel and Lambert join him, ready to head out. They quickly go over the plan before separating and Geralt leads the way across the river before he turns off and watches Lambert continue South. He knows this was the entire point of asking for help, but a small part of him feels discouraged to be alone again.

He gives a brief tug on the reins, turning Roach back onto the road and pushes down the ache of doubt that threatens to delay him. His goal is to make it to Novigrad in a couple of days, though he's still determined to stop at any town or village he passes through on the way. Not that he expects it to help much. 

And it doesn't. It takes him five days to reach the walls of Oxenfurt, longer already than he was planning on travelling, and he's had no news whatsoever of Jaskier. He hesitates in front of the guards. Already, he's delayed, but both Eskel and Lambert's paths will take longer than his own - maybe he has time to look into Jaskier's associates in Oxenfurt. The university has been restored and surely some of them would have heard from Jaskier over the winter. But he promised to meet his brothers in Novigrad at the inn so sighing and setting aside his inner turmoil, he guides Roach away from the gates, toward Sandy shores and further on to Novigrad. 

Geralt is less inclined to enter Novigrad as he approaches. He dislikes this city, not least of all because of its inherent dislike of anything _different_ , and that means him. He's spent too much time here in the past, too many days putting up with people who barely tolerated him at the best of times. And now he needs their help.

Sighing reluctantly, Geralt dismounts, drawing the rains over Roach's head and winding them around his hand. She snorts her irritation but follows without further complaint as Geralt leads her into the city. He picks the safest route; most of the tensions have relaxed since Radovid's death, but certain parts of the city are still better to avoid and Geralt would rather not delay any more than he has to. 

He walks toward the edge of the city and up ahead, he spots Rosemary and Thyme, standing tall though nondescript amongst similarly decorated buildings. Geralt leads Roach to the opposite side of the street, tethering her alongside a curious pony before walking around to the front door of the inn. He should wait for his brothers, but already he itches with inaction, desperate to find out who is inside and what they may have to say. But when he pushes the front door open, no one appears to be around. 

"Zoltan?" he calls, pricking his ears for any hint of life. "Jaskier?" 

There's nothing and Geralt can't say he's disappointed, he wasn't really expecting anything. Rummaging around, he finds a scrap of parchment and a quill to scratch out a note for Eskel and Lambert, should they show up before he returns. As he leaves, he tucks the note into a panel on the side of the building, easy enough for them to find but not obvious to any other passers by. 

He leaves Roach at the inn, she'll be safe there, and makes his way toward the Kingfisher. More than anything, he'd rather avoid talking to Priscilla but he knows if he's going to find Jaskier, he has to, so he might as well get it over with as quickly as possible, and without the added unpleasantness of having Eskel or Lambert around when he does. 

The inn is crowded, gathered to watch another bard perform and Geralt waits at the counter for the innkeep to finish with the drunkard she's arguing with. After a few minutes, she gives up the fight, turning from the man and toward Geralt with a start. 

"Oh," she says, barely concealing a frown. "A Witcher in the city, what's the trouble this time?"

"No trouble," Geralt rumbles, "just looking for someone who I’ve heard stays here. Priscilla, have you seen her?"

"Aye. She rents the room upstairs as she has done for the past six years."

"May I?" Geralt asks, gesturing toward the stairs. The innkeep nods curtly and Geralt thanks her briefly before making his way around the back of the audience toward the door. He takes the stairs as slowly as he can manage, pushing down the urgency - a couple of seconds won't make a difference. 

Priscilla's room is the second room on the right and Geralt hesitates once he reaches the door. It hasn't crossed his mind until now that Jaskier could be _here_. He’s considered the possibility that he’s with Priscilla, but not that he might interrupt them here and now. When he knocks and Priscilla answers, Jaskier could very well be sitting in the room, scribbling away in his notebook - or any number of other things Geralt would rather not think about. He feels like an idiot for not having thought about it earlier and he shuts his eyes for a moment, building up his resolve before raising his hand to knock on the door. 

For a moment, there's no answer and he realizes how late it is. He shouldn't be disturbing anyone at this hour and if Jaskier is here, he's sure to be unimpressed. But when the door swings in, a pretty blonde looks back at him and she appears to be alone. 

"Priscilla?" he asks and she beams. 

"Geralt! What brings you here?"

Her familiarity is perplexing, but he supposes Jaskier was eager to talk about his music and much of that exists within Geralt's life. So, he supposes, maybe not so odd after all. 

"Yes," he says, "I'm looking for Jaskier."

"Oh. Haven't seen him. Not since last summer, I thought he was with you."

"He was, until the autumn. He didn't show up to meet me this spring. I was-" his mouth fumbles over the word _hoping_ because that's wildly inaccurate. He was hoping to find Jaskier here, but he wouldn't have been happy about it. 

"You thought he'd be here?" Priscilla supplies and Geralt nods. "Sorry to disappoint."

"There are others," Geralt says a little gruffly, abruptly. He doesn't mind who Jaskier spends his time with, but his patience is thin already and Priscilla isn't being overly helpful. "You must know you're not the only one he sees, do you know who else in the city?" It's a little harsher than necessary, but the look she gives him in response is surprisingly calm and maybe a little sympathetic. He's not sure exactly what she's trying to convey with the expression, so he cocks his head to one side, an invitation to speak, preferably more quickly. 

"I don't," she says, not unkindly, "when Jaskier and I are together, he is mine. What he does with the rest of his time isn't my business. I'd speak to Zoltan at the inn, he'd be the one to ask. Jaskier has been distant of late - he spends more time at the inn than with anyone in particular. But if he was with someone, Zoltan would know."

"Right," Geralt says, "thanks." He turns away, disappointed, and starts toward the stairs but Priscilla calls after him. 

"Won't you stay?" she asks, apparently unperturbed by Geralt's gruffness.

"Can't," he says simply, "I have to meet someone."

"Okay well, good luck. Tell him hello for me when you find him.”

Geralt nods but doesn't reply. She seems unworried, though Geralt suspects that comes less from a lack of concern and more from an assurance that Jaskier will return to her the next time he passes through. The only hope Geralt has is that maybe she knows Jaskier better than he does, that he shouldn't be as worried as he is about his non-appearance, but that doesn't stop him from worrying. If anything, it only adds to the suspicion that Jaskier doesn't want to be found and if that’s the case, if he does find him, Geralt may be an unpleasant sight for him. 

Swallowing back the bitter taste in his mouth, Geralt leaves the inn and heads toward the harbour. He told Eskel and Lambert to meet him at the Golden Sturgeon if he hadn't returned to the inn by the time they arrived, and he hasn't been gone long, but he could use a stiff drink. 

Geralt isn't an idiot and he isn't wholly unaware of the way Jaskier has crept into his life and planted himself firmly in the middle of it. He knows he's grown attached - more so than he ever should have allowed - but he didn't realize just how deeply Jaskier had ingrained himself. The thought of Jaskier leaving him twists uncomfortably in his chest, steals the air from his lungs, and Geralt realizes he needs to get a grip on himself. He's had too many late nights and early mornings with not enough time between to rest. That's all. He's worn himself ragged travelling to the coast and what he needs is just a strong drink and a relatively comfortable place to sleep. He'll be back to himself in the morning. 

But the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes he doesn't know who he is without his bard anymore. A witcher, of course; hunter of monsters, hated amongst the average folk - but he had almost begun to feel normal in Jaskier's company. Jaskier never treated him like the mutant he is, he always had a kind word to say on the subject of Witchers, fighting prejudice and ignorance with lilting melodies and soft words. And Geralt had started to believe him. How could he not after so many years? But he shouldn't have. He should never have let Jaskier get under his skin like that or let him convince him that he was anything but what he is: a monster. 

And still, the thought of losing him tugs too hard at his heart to be fully ignored, even if it is in his best interests. So Geralt doesn't divert from his path, walking straight up to the Golden Sturgeon and finding an empty table out of the way of the rest of the guests. No one acknowledges him past a quick glance in his direction and he's not sure if it's fear or hatred that keeps them at bay, but for once he appreciates it. He orders a cherry vodka from the barkeep, ignoring the significance of that, and settles in to wait. 

Eskel shows up amongst a crowd that filters into the tavern later that night. Immediately, Geralt can tell he has no news, so he doesn't ask and instead orders another round of drinks for them.

"Nothing then?" Eskel asks and Geralt shakes his head. He feels much worse than he did when they parted, and by the way Eskel looks at him, he looks it, too. 

"No. Priscilla hasn't seen him since before he and I parted in the autumn. Said to talk to Zoltan about his lovers."

"Your old poker buddy?" Eskel asks and Geralt nods slowly. 

"He was helping Jaskier with the inn for a while. Probably still is. Either way, he wasn't there when I stopped by earlier. We'll head back there when Lambert shows up."

When Lambert does show up, he's not alone. Traipsing along beside him is Zoltan, chatting away like they're old friends. As they approach, he gives Gerlt a wide smile, one Geralt does his best to reciprocate, though he's not feeling particularly cheerful. 

"Good to see you two are already acquainted."

"Found this one asking after your bard, said he was here to meet you," Zoltan explains.

"Told you," Lambert grunts and Zoltan flashes him a dark look. 

"You want to tell me the whole story?" Zoltan asks and Geralt is already rising from his seat. 

"Let's go to the Rosemary, we can talk there."

"Aye."

Eskel follows behind him as Geralt circles the table and falls in step with Zoltan. He doesn't need to be shown where to go, but he lets Zoltan lead anyway, Eskel and Lambert following a few paces behind. They must make an odd sight; three Witchers and a dwarf wandering through the city streets in the middle of the night. But if anyone has a problem with it, they don't speak up. And quite rightly, any one of them could take a grown man down without hesitation and Geralt's skin is crawling with unspent energy and irritation. 

The inn is dark when they reach the front door and Eskel and Lambert lead their horses around to the side while Geralt joins Zoltan in lighting candles and lamps. 

"So," he says, "I'm looking for Jaskier."

"Figured as much from what your friend was asking. How come? Doesn't he normally come to you."

"Mmhm. Didn't this year. No one seems to have heard from him."

"Did you ask Priscilla?" She was his first thought, too, but the suggestion coming from someone else sits uncomfortably in Geralt's stomach. He doesn't realize he's paused until Zolant turns to him and clears his throat. "Priscilla?" he prompts.

"I did. She said to talk to you - about the others."

The door creaks open behind him and Eskel and Lambert come into the room just as Zoltan asks, "the others?"

"Whoever else Jaskier has been with in the city. He doesn't exactly save himself." 

Zoltan huffs and Eskel snorts, but the second sound is quickly muffled and followed by an indignant groan. When Geralt turns, Lambert is offering an incredulous look at Eskel. Geralt doesn't comment, best not to.

"Ah," Zoltan nods. "Indeed he does not." Geralt's stomach gives another twist and he crosses the room to sit down on a bench. Zoltan's eyebrows pinch together as he looks at Geralt and then, casting a glance to the other Witchers, suggests, "why don't we wait until morning? I'll fix you up a couple of rooms and find something for supper and we can start fresh again in the daylight."

Geralt can't really argue with that, as much as he wants to get things moving in case Jaskier is in some sort of trouble. He accepts and when Zoltan shows them to their rooms, he stays put. He isn't hungry and there's no need for him to worry the others with his sour mood, so he lights a fire and sits in front of it, staring blankly at the flames. 

He tries to think back to the last time he saw Jaskier, to think if there was any sign that he wasn't planning on coming back in the spring, but he barely remembers anything Jaskier said to him. Instead, his mind is flooded with a memory, shoved out of the way until now. 

He'd been planning to ask Jaskier to come to Kaer Morhen with him. He'd thought about it for weeks as they wandered the wilderness, but then when the time had come, he couldn't do it. Because what if Jaskier said no? What if Geralt opened the closest thing he had to a home to him and Jaskier hated it. He'd pushed the thought so far aside, he'd forgotten he'd ever considered it, but it explains now why he remembers so little of their last days together. He’d been rather preoccupied.

Footsteps outside the door thrust him back to reality and he grunts before knuckles even hit wood, an implied invitation to come in. And Zoltan takes it as such. He comes into the room, not bothering to shut the door behind him, and stands next to Geralt. 

"Jaskier's been in and out," he says, "over the winter. I don't know where he's been going, but he's been here a few times. Left me in charge of the inn, but he's been checking in."

"When was the last time you saw him?" Geralt asks. 

"Couple weeks ago. If he's gotten himself into any trouble, can't be that bad."

"Hmm." Geralt nods. 

"I'm sure he's fine," Zoltan adds, turning back toward the door, "he's an idiot, but he's good at taking care of himself." He shuts the door as he disappears out onto the landing and Geralt sighs to himself, letting his shoulders sag. 

Carefully, he picks himself up off the floor and sits on the edge of the bed. He unfastens what armour he deemed necessary for the trip and pulls his shirt over his head. His eyes are heavy, his limbs even more so, but sleep hasn't come easily for Geralt lately and he doubts a fire and a bed that smells familiar will help with that. But he takes his clothes off and climbs into bed nonetheless; he needs to conserve his energy for whatever waits for him tomorrow. The last thing he wants to do is follow up with a string of Jaskier's lovers, but that seems to be his best option at the moment. 

Morning rises bright and warm, but Geralt feels neither. His sleep was disrupted by uneasy dreams and he's already dreading the task at hand. If it was anyone else, he might not mind so much, but there's something about seeking out all of Jaskier's lovers that sits uncomfortably with him. There's no denying they exist, but Geralt prefers to think as little about the bard's sex life as he can, not to run straight into it. 

When he finally drags himself out of bed, dressed only in a loose shirt and trousers, everyone is already waiting downstairs for him. 

"Finally," Lambert huffs, "we've been waiting for you for hours." Geralt opens his mouth to respond, but Eskel beats him to it, mumbling, "oh, shut up," as he elbows Lambert in the side. 

"What'd I miss?"

"Nothing important," Zoltan says, "they've just been filling me in on your adventure so far." Geralt hums and sits down across from Eskel. "Now that you're here, we can take a look at this list."

"List?" Geralt asks.

"I made a list of Jaskier's _associates_ ," he says, "at least the ones from the past few months. Somewhere for you to start." 

Eskel takes the folded parchment, opening it and raising his eyebrows at the paper. "Just the past few months? He do anything but fuck?"

Anger rips up Geralt's spine and his fingers clench around his knee. He can't explain why it bothers him to hear Eskel speak so freely about Jaskier's sex life, as though his own is so perfectly normal, but he has to tune out and take a minute to calm himself down. 

"Geralt, you know any of these people?" Eskel passes the list over and Geralt takes it from him, scanning from top to bottom. Other than Priscilla, he's never heard of any of them.

"No, but I don't exactly get involved in his sex life." There's a heavy pause in which Geralt is sure at least one of them has something he wants to say, but thankfully they have the sense not to. 

"So what then?" Lambert asks at last, "split the list four ways and see what we can find out?"

"Three ways, I'm afraid," Zoltan chimes in. "I should stay here in case anyone shows up." Geralt nods briefly. He's right, they should have someone stay behind, especially if Jaskier has been checking in on occasion.

Nothing more is said on the matter and Geralt sits back as Lambert splits the list, adding the final name to Geralt's list. It gives him an extra person to seek out, but, he supposes it's only fair considering he's the one who drew them all into this manhunt. Zoltan fixes them up something to eat and sends them off on what Geralt is expecting to be the longest day of his life. He heads out the door with a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

The sun is much too bright, made worse by Geralt's lack of sleep and enthusiasm and he tries to keep to the shadows. Thankfully, the sun is still rising and shadows are abundant between the cramped city buildings. 

The first house he visits is just on the border of Hierarch Square, tucked between two other similar houses and Geralt almost misses it at first. He has to stop and collect himself on the front step, wondering if he's foolish to be tracking down all of Jaskier's lovers just to try and find him when maybe he doesn't even want to be found. Eventually, the worry simmering in his gut wins out and he reaches out to knock on the door. 

Almost immediately, a blonde, middle-aged woman answers the door, smiling brightly at him. Her smile only brightens when she takes in his appearance, an uncommon reaction that would regularly have him turning in the opposite direction. This is not how Witchers are treated, especially not in cities, especially not in cities like Novigrad. 

"Oh," the woman says, "you must be Geralt, right?" A further red flag that Geralt grits his teeth against. This woman is a friend of Jaskier's, she can't be anything more than Geralt can handle. 

"Yes," he says simply, "I believe we have a friend in common, I'm looking for him."

"Jaskier," she says and her smile softens somewhat in a way that makes Geralt's chest tighten. He blames his lack of preparation and steadfastly ignores the way his heart clenches. "Come in," she says and Geralt would prefer to stay out of her house, but he finds himself nodding and following her inside. 

She sits him down at a small round table in her kitchen and slips into the seat across from him. The room is warm - too warm - and smells like fresh bread which is overwhelming, but a welcome distraction from the smells of the city. 

"I don't think I introduced myself," she says and Geralt shakes his head slowly. "My name is Annabelle and like you rightly guessed, I'm a... friend of Jaskier's. Although, he's been distant recently, how is he?" she tips her head up, looking expectantly at Geralt. Part of him is disappointed that he doesn't have an answer for her, but a much bigger part of him is relieved that she hasn't seen him, though that relief is short-lived. 

"I was hoping you could tell me. He and I had plans to meet at the beginning of spring and he didn't show up this year. I haven't seen him since autumn."

Annabelle sighs. "What a pity, though I suppose he's finally gone off after that friend of his."

"Friend?" Geralt asks, forcing down his urgency.

"Yes. Jaskier constantly talked about this friend of his. I don't know who it is, but I suspected it was a woman. He always seemed too invested in her and if I'm honest, I think they're more than friends." 

The wistfulness in Annabelle's voice doesn't escape Geralt's attention and he finds himself sympathizing with her. He's always known he couldn't hold Jaskier's full attention and in all their years together, he's seen lovers come and go more often than he can recall. But Jaskier has a way of making you feel like you're the only person in the room, like you're the only one that could possibly ever matter to him, and when he returns time and time again, it only cements that feeling. So he understands why it could be so heartbreaking to find he's moved on, found someone else to love fully. 

He doesn't know how to respond, but suddenly the room feels too small and the warm, scented air cloying and he needs to leave. 

"I'm staying at the Rosemary and Thyme," he says, standing abruptly, "if you hear from him, let me know or leave word with Zoltan Chivay. I have to go."

As he bursts back out into the street, he regrets not thanking her despite the lack of information he got, but his heart is beating faster than normal and he feels like he can't breathe. Again, he doubts his mission; should he really be out here looking for Jaskier or is he happy without Geralt in his life? Maybe this secret lover of his has stolen him away and he's content. 

Geralt doesn't realize he's making his way through the crowds again until he hears a group of townsmen muttering about him. He shoots a look in their direction and he must look worse than he feels because the look alone is enough to shut the men up and have them heading in the opposite direction. 

He stops down a quiet alley, double-checking his list to see where he needs to go next because maybe Jaskier is happy, but maybe he's also in danger and Geralt could also never forgive himself if something happened to Jaskier just because he gave up on him. 

The next person he's supposed to see lives close to the inn. Her name is Lydia and according to Zoltan, Jaskier sees her more than the others, so Geralt is already dreading this interaction. He adjusts his path back toward the inn and rolls the parchment back up, tucking it under the strap of his shirt. 

The house he finds is surprisingly well-kept for this side of town and he takes a deep breath before knocking on the brightly-coloured door. Might as well get this over with. The woman who answers is suspicious and doesn't so much as show her face until Geralt utters the word _Jaskier_. Abruptly, he finds himself hauled into the house, surprise allowing him to be pulled forward. As soon as he's let go, he turns and scowls at the woman, ready to pull his sword should she make another move to touch him, but she doesn't.

She's younger than Annabelle with a twisted grin on her face that reminds him somewhat of Jaskier when he's about to do something both of them will regret. A quick scan of the room tells him the woman isn't a threat and he lets himself relax - a moment too soon, as she starts toward him. Not wanting any unnecessary confrontation, Geralt walks backward to avoid her touch, but soon his back hits the wall and she just keeps coming toward him. 

When she's barely an inch away, she leans into him, sliding a hand up his thigh and all of a sudden, everything settles into place. Resting a hand on her shoulder, Geralt pushes her back gently, leaving a more comfortable gap between them. Lydia frowns.

"Is something wrong?" she asks, the smile drooping into a frown.

"A misunderstanding," Geralt explains, "I'm not a customer-"

"So Jaskier didn't recommend me to you?" her eyes flick up to Geralt's and her frown only deepens as he shakes his head. "Bastard," she mutters, stepping back and leaning against the wall. "What do you want then?" 

Judging by the way her scent changes, she's only just realized the swords on his back and that he could, potentially, be a danger to her. Geralt scoffs under his breath and folds his arms over his chest, holding back the urge to tell her she should be more careful about pulling strangers into her home.

"I'm looking for Jaskier. He's been here recently, so I hoped you could help."

"Unlikely," she says and Geralt cocks his head. "I haven't seen him in ages. Found someone else to fuck, apparently."

"Who?"

"Dunno. Never met her, but Jaskier stopped coming around so he must've found someone special."

"Hmm."

"Sorry I can't be of more help," she offers, "if you see him, tell him we miss him. In the meantime-" she takes a step forward and Geralt shakes his head. 

"I can't stay. Thanks." He slips past Lydia toward the door and back out into the street. 

The third woman, Matilda, is equally as unhelpful as the first two and considerably more irritable. She spends fifteen minutes demanding to know how Jaskier could choose _anyone_ over her and prying Geralt for information about this new hussy Jaskier has found, despite how many times Geralt tells her he knows nothing. He has to escape when she leaves the room for a moment, lest he be berated any further for things he has no control over.

He's relieved to find the next stop on his list is outside the city walls. People outside cities are generally more welcoming and laid back and Geralt isn't looking forward to it, per se, but it can't be worse than visiting Matilda. 

It's late afternoon now and he's growing weary of conversation, but so far none of them have given him anything to go on and so he persists. Though more and more it seems likely that Jaskier has just fallen in love with someone new and she is the reason he hasn't shown up. The part of him that cares deeply for the bard wants it to be true because it means Jaskier is safe and happy somewhere, but Geralt is old and bitter and despite himself, the thought of Jaskier holed up with a lover makes his stomach turn. 

The farmhouse rises up in front of him and there's a man working out in the yard. He stops as he sees Geralt approach and watches him cautiously. 

"Can I help you?" he asks and he sounds surprisingly calm despite the way he keeps his pitchfork in front of him. 

"I hope so," Geralt says, "I'm looking for someone. Is your wife home?"

"Don't have a wife." Ah. That's not what he was expecting. 

"Hmm."

"Who are you looking for?" the farmer asks and Geralt considers that for a moment. 

"A woman, Remi."

"Can't say there are any women around here, but my name's Remi. Has been as long as I can remember." Geralt frowns and the man gives him a questioning look. "How can I help?"

"My friend is missing. Apparently, he sees you frequently."

"And who's your friend."

"Jaskier - a bard, runs the Rosemary and Thyme."

"Ah," the farmer smiles, "I can see why you thought you were looking for a woman. Things with Jaskier weren't like that, I was teaching him."

Geralt's thoughts come to a halt and his eyebrows knit together. It takes him a second to remember to respond. "Teaching him what?"

"Herbalism. He wanted to know about plants, which ones are good for healing, which can be used in cooking," he shrugs. "He already knew a fair bit about them, so I'm not sure why he kept coming back."

If Jaskier wanted to know herbs, why didn't he just ask _him_? Geralt surely knows more about healing plants than a farmer. "He never said why he wanted to know?"

"Never. Just had an interest, I suppose. He did ask about planting though, near the end."

"The end?"

The farmer nods. "He stopped coming to me a while back. Must've gotten busy doing whatever it was with his plants. A shame really, he paid well for our conversations."

"Hmm. Did he ever ask about anything else? Ever mention anyone?"

"All he cared about were the plants and what to do with 'em. He did mention a partner once, I think. I don't remember the name though, something seemed unusual to me. I seem to recall thinking it was a man - maybe a business partner?" he suggests.

"Zoltan?"

"No, that wasn't it." 

Geralt's heart beats a little quicker and he wants to ask if the name was _Geralt_ , but he can't bring himself to say the words. "So you haven't seen him recently, then?"

"Can't say I have. If he does come by again, I'll let you know."

"Thank you," Geralt says, ducking his head in a nod, "I'll be staying at the inn - the Rosemary and Thyme. If I'm not there, leave a message with the innkeep."

"Sorry I couldn't be more help."

"You've helped plenty," Geralt says as he turns, trying to keep the bitter edge out of his voice. _Gardening_ , Jaskier was looking into gardening. But why? 

His mind sticks on that, thinking up every reason why Jaskier would turn to someone else for knowledge on something he knows Geralt could help with. There's only one person left on his list, but he's confused and feeling defeated, so he takes a break. The last stop is further outside of the city anyway.

All he wants to do is return to the inn because he's spent his entire day so far talking to people who know Jaskier in a way he never will, in a way he could only ever hope to know him. And he'd rather take on a nest of ghouls than talk to another one of them. 

So he delays. He crosses the bridge and meanders through the fields, working himself up to hearing another story about Jaskier and the new love of his life. He wonders how Eskel and Lambert are doing - probably finished and back at the inn by now, waiting for him - and finds he's not as worried about them as he should be. Instead, he finds his mind wandering again, back to the last time he saw Jaskier. Had he already met this person then? It seems likely since everyone here seems to know about her, but Jaskier hadn't shown any signs of wanting to leave, never once mentioned being in love to Geralt.

Though why would he? Geralt is just his travelling companion, a source of stories and a bodyguard so the objects of his stories don't kill him. Jaskier wouldn't have any reason to talk to him about his other life, the one he leads when he's not on the road. The one Geralt isn't a part of. 

He tries not to think too much about it, no point letting himself sulk over something he has no say in, and finds himself wandering into a small settlement - a nonhuman settlement, by the looks of it. None of the villagers pay him much attention, though on the edge of the village, there's a barn and when he gets closer, Geralt realizes he's wandered toward the exact place he was trying to avoid. 

There don't appear to be any women nearby, but there's a young man tending to the horses in the stable. He's tall and slim and when he turns to Geralt, it's apparent that he's an elf. 

"Master Witcher," he greets, a sly grin spreading across his face, "what brings you out to Arette?"

"Looking for someone, Falien. She's a friend of a friend."

"Well you've found Falien, but I hate to tell you I'm not a _she_. Maybe I can still help, though?" 

Everything in his body language is suggestive, from the way his hips sway just so as he abandons his task in lieu of conversation, to the way his eyes roam Geralt's body as he approaches. If it wasn't for the red hair and pointed ears, he'd remind him of Jaskier.

"Suppose you were teaching Jaskier about herbs too?" Geralt says stiffly, avoiding the much more obvious implication. 

Falien laughs and comes to a stop just a hair closer than is socially appropriate. "Not quite. If you're not busy I could give you a demonstration?"

Geralt's heart thuds in his chest, his mind racing through any reason other than the obvious that Jaskier could have come here, come to _him_. But there's nothing and Geralt isn't a stupid man, he can convince himself of a great many things, but looking at Falien in front of him and knowing what he knows of Jaskier, he can put two and two together. 

Geralt knows, deep down, what his feelings for the bard really are. It's been decades at this point, he'd have to be the most oblivious man on the planet not to. But he keeps those feelings, that knowledge, buried deep down where no one can find it and use it against him. But even the strongest men can break and Geralt isn't feeling particularly strong lately. 

He knows Jaskier isn't picky about his romantic partners and at some point, he should have assumed that meant men as well as women, though he's never considered it until now. In some of his weakest moments, Geralt used it as a balm, a reminder that while Jaskier was open and willing with his affections, his aversion to Geralt was because he was a man, not because Jaskier didn't want _him_. Geralt had never really believed it - who could ever truly love a witcher, after all? - but it stings all the more to know the truth.

Falien's expression drops as he takes in the look on Geralt's face. "Ah. You didn't know. Listen," he says quickly, "don't think less of him because of it, Jaskier is-" 

Whatever the next words out of his mouth are going to be, Geralt doesn't want to hear them. He shuts his eyes and shakes his head, exhaling slowly. 

"I couldn't think less of him," he says, "but you're right - I didn't know."

"A shame, Jaskier is a very giving lover and you look like you could use some attention." Falien quirks an eyebrow at him and Geralt looks away. "Why don't you wait for me inside, I'm nearly finished out here."

"Can't," is all Geralt can get himself to say. His head feels foggy, crowded by this new information about Jaskier. And he can't deny that a part of him is intrigued by the offer, though he quickly shuts that train of thought down. "Jaskier's missing, I need to find him.

"Oh." Falien's expression softens, the bright shine of lust dimming from his eyes as he reaches up to touch Geralt's face. He looks up at him like he knows something Geralt doesn't and for a second, panic spikes through him before Falien speaks. "There's someone else," he says, "some mysterious lover that has the bard all aflutter. No one knows who it is though. Jaskier talked about them the last time he was here, but didn't so much as mention a name."

"When was this?"

"Months back, I don't know. Before the frost set in." Falien takes a step back, searching Geralt's eyes. "Why?"

"Seems to be the last time anyone saw him."

"He does enjoy travelling," the elf suggests, "he's told me countless tales of his adventures - maybe he's just off exploring?"

"He's supposed to be," Geralt says, "supposed to meet me in the early spring and he didn't show up. I've been asking around but no one's seen or heard from him."

"You care about him a great deal, don't you?" Geralt doesn't respond. Even if he could, his tongue feels like it's dried up, unable to form the words. Falien hums softly at him. "There isn't anything more you can do now, people will be settling in for the night and won't want to talk, least of all to strangers. Why don't you stay? Let me take care of you tonight, and you can set out on your quest again in the morning."

For a split second, Geralt considers it before he remembers Eskel and Lambert, due to meet him back at the inn. "I can't."

"Very well. When you do find him, give him my regards. If you're ever in the area, stop by - both of you." 

Geralt doesn't know what to say to that, so he hums and turns away. This day has already been too much and he just wants to go to bed - alone. But as he makes his way back through the city, he can't help but think about Jaskier all wrapped up in soft limbs, fingers tangled in auburn hair. The image haunts him, a firm reminder that Jaskier's tastes extend past the socially acceptable, but not so far as Witchers. And Geralt can't blame him for that, but the confirmation leaves an aching pit in his stomach. 

When he reaches the inn, neither of his brothers have made it back yet. Or maybe they have and got tired of waiting for him, but he's alone all the same. He's burning with excess energy and without an outlet for it, he pulls a bottle from behind the counter and slouches in an armchair next to the unlit fire. 

When Eskel and Lambert do return, he's half-conscious and Eskel has to drag him up to his room to sleep. He lays on top of the blankets where Eskel drops him, making no attempt to cover himself or get comfortable, and he can hear them talking through the door, worrying about him. The last thing he hears before his eyes drop shut is Eskel's voice mumbling _he's not taking it very well_ and then everything goes black. 

The morning rises bright and warm again, and Geralt feels like he fell asleep in a ditch. Which he may have as he remembers very little after leaving the farm in Arette. His head throbs and he digs around in his bag for anything that might help, downing the potion as soon as he finds it and heaving himself up and out of bed. Eskel and Lambert will be waiting for him - again - and he should get up and see what they have to say. All of this is about making sure Jaskier is safe after all, not about Geralt and the feelings he shouldn't have in the first place. 

Geralt makes his way down to the common area dreading to find out what his brothers have to say. Everyone he spoke to yesterday was utterly unhelpful, so all he can hope for is that the others had better luck. Both of them are up and eating when he finds them and Eskel looks up at him, frowning. 

"Rough night?" he asks and Geralt just grunts and plops himself down across from him. He actually slept better last night than he has since starting all of this, but he doesn't feel any more rested. Oddly, Lambert stays quiet and when Geralt looks up at him, he's wearing a concerned expression. 

"What?" Geralt asks, "no snide comments?"

"Figured whatever it is, you beat yourself up over it enough last night," Lambert says, pulling up a smirk that is much more characteristic. "Did you find anything?"

"No," Geralt grunts, "no one's seen him since the last time I did and all anyone knows is that he's got some mystery lover he's been seeing."

"Glad I don't have to break _that_ news," Eskel mumbles and Geralt's shoulders slump. 

"Yeah, I got a lot of that too," Lambert adds. "No name though, you?"

"Nothing," Geralt shakes his head. 

"Got shouted at by some guy who's wife Jaskier slept with," Eskel offers.

"Yeah, you get used to that."

"This lover," Lambert asks cautiously, "you know him better than anyone, you have any idea who it could be?"

"I have a thought. Priscilla was the only one who didn't mention her, so I don't know who else it could be. But we already know she's a dead end, she hasn't seen him either."

"So maybe it's not her then."

"Hmm."

Geralt's at a loss. None of them found anything to carry them forward on their search, so Geralt tells them to relax for the day and he'll ask around the city some more today. Only he can't bring himself to do that, so he slips out back to where Roach is still tethered and leans against the fence, watching as people walk by, wondering how many of them have warmed Jaskier's bed. He can't have been alone for more than ten minutes when the door opens behind him and Geralt turns, expecting to see Zoltan coming to berate him for sulking, but Lambert is the one grinning back at him. 

He strolls up casually, leaning back against the fence next to Geralt. "I get it," he says and Geralt looks up at him, barely moving his head. The grin is gone from Lambert's face, replaced with something he might even describe as sad. 

"Aiden was never just a friend," Lambert says, "and neither is Jaskier."

Geralt shuts his eyes and turns away. "It's not like that," he whispers but he knows it's a lie before the words even leave his lips and he knows Lambert won't believe it either.

"Right," Lambert mutters but he doesn't say any more and he stays until Eskel comes out to get them. 

"Zoltan just got back, said he ran into a friend of Jaskier's. Won't talk to anyone but you, if you're up for a ride."

"Where is he?" Geralt asks, pushing himself up and turning to face Eskel. 

"Outside the city, out past Arette. Don't remember what it's called."

"Yantra," Lambert puts in. "Jaskier's got friends out there?"

"He has friends everywhere," Geralt sighs. And yet they still can't find anyone to help them. "I'll head out that way, see what I can find."

"You want any company?" Lambert asks and Geralt shakes his head. He'd rather be alone for a while, maybe give himself a chance to clear his head. 

"No. Only wanted to talk to me, remember?" It's an excuse, but it's one both of them accept and Geralt gets to preparing for the trip immediately. He shouldn't be too long, there and back before midnight if he's quick about it. He sets out in silence, leaving the others to whatever they're doing inside. 

He's happy to be out in the fresh air again with a chance to breathe. This is where he's most comfortable, with the wind in his hair and moving in time with Roach's pace. He passes through Arette again without giving it a thought and continues out onto the open road, but it doesn't last long. Before it seems any time has passed, Geralt finds himself coming upon another little village, bigger than Arette, but not by much. 

He's supposed to meet Milan at the tavern and he finds it easily, leaving Roach outside as he pushes the door open. There are four tables, three of which are occupied, but Geralt goes straight for the bar.

"What can I get for you?" the barkeep asks.

"I was told I could find someone here, a man named Milan." The barkeep nods his head toward the table in the corner.

"That's 'im there, the one looks like he's about to become very closely acquainted with the table." Geralt looks over and frowns. A drinking buddy, he supposes.

"Thanks," he says to the barkeep, then turns back toward the corner table, taking a seat across from Milan. "Heard you're a friend of Jaskier's," he says without pre-empt, "can you tell me anything about where I might find him?"

"Jaskier?" he huffs, "probably the local brothel."

"Not funny. Friend of mine says you're the one to ask. Where can I find him?"

"Probably with his new man," Milan smirks, "can't seem to get enough of him, always running off at the slightest chance to see him." 

_His new man_. Geralt's stomach turns. "I'll buy you another if you tell me everything you know."

"Not much, no one knows much. Jask's pretty secretive about this one. Think he's a knight or something, maybe one of those witch hunters." A knight, Geralt could buy maybe, but a witch hunter? That seems unlikely considering the company Jaskier keeps. Then again, he doesn't seem picky about who he fucks, so maybe he's not picky about who he falls in love with, either.

"Must be pretty special for Jaskier to go running off after him all the time."

"From what he's told me, he's somethin' else." 

Geralt keeps to his word, buying another drink for the man and something strong for himself. It's not strong enough to quell the seething ache that spreads through his entire body, but it helps a little. He can't bring himself to give a name to the feeling, but he knows it wouldn't be this bad if it was a woman everyone was talking about. So he squashes the feeling down like he does with everything else, shares another drink with Milan and heads back toward the inn, thinking again about this mysterious lover. He must be incredible for Jaskier to drop everyone else to be with him alone, and how could Geralt ever hope to contend with someone like that?

He's just heading out of town when he's stopped by a bright-eyed young woman walking along the path. She waves to him and he pulls Roach to a stop just a few feet shy of her.

"Sorry to bother you," she says, "only I heard you talking about Jaskier? At the tavern? You're looking for him, right?"

"I am."

"A friend of mine in Oxenfurt saw him only a fortnight ago, said she was helping him with something, but she didn't say what."

"In Oxenfurt?" Geralt's heart does that thing it's taken to doing when he thinks too much about seeing him again. A little flutter that under other circumstances might be worrying. The woman nods and he shuts his eyes, forcing his body to relax. "Thank you, you've been very helpful."

"I hope you find him," she says, "he must be very important to you."

"He is."

The thrill of finding a new lead wears off altogether too quickly, replaced again by the fear that maybe he's overstepping. If Jaskier is in Oxenfurt, maybe he's decided to settle there with his lover, maybe Geralt should just leave it at that. Two weeks ago, he was fine, what's to say he isn't now?

When he tells this to Eskel and Lambert, he's met with twin looks of disbelief. 

"After everything you want to stop now?" Lambert asks. Geralt shrugs and Eskel peers at him like he's trying to figure out what happened to him to make him change his mind. 

Eventually, the argument devolves into plans to ride out to Oxenfurt and Geralt is essentially ousted from the conversation. He reluctantly agrees to join them, once Lambert has threatened to go with or without him. He does want to make sure Jaskier is happy, after all. 

When he turns in for bed that night, his stomach twists with anxious anticipation. In just a couple of days, he could see Jaskier again, and then what? Will he be glad to see him? Will he be angry? What if it's the last time? He doesn't have long to dwell on that because there's a knock on the door and before he can say anything, Eskel pushes his way into the room, shutting the door behind him. 

"I know what you're doing," he says and Geralt sits up to look at him.

"Trying to sleep?"

"Giving up. Listen, I know this isn't about some travelling companion, I've known from the beginning Jaskier was much more than that-" Geralt opens his mouth to argue, but Eskel interrupts. "And I know about Aiden. You two don't give me enough credit, and you reek of heartbreak, anyone within a hundred miles could smell it on you. Geralt, I don't know who this person everyone's been talking about is, but just because Jaskier has fallen in love with someone - for the hundredth time, I might add - doesn't mean there isn't still a place for you in his life."

"Eskel-"

"You see what you choose to see, but ask anyone else and they'll tell you the bard is smitten. So tomorrow we're going to ride out to Oxenfurt and you can ask him yourself about this lover. I think you'll find she's not what everyone says."

"He," Geralt corrects. Eskel opens his mouth and shuts it again. 

"Either way," he says, but his tone has changed. "Get some sleep, we're leaving early." He turns and leaves without another word and Geralt is left alone again and confused. 

They leave for Oxenfurt before dawn and by the time they arrive, night has fallen. They find the first inn through the gate and Geralt sits back while Eskel arranges for a room for the three of them. He's not sure how he's supposed to feel in this situation, but he's pretty sure the constant churning of his insides isn't quite right. 

He's spent more time with Jaskier than he can reasonably account for, but the thought of seeing him now makes him feel almost sick. There are too many variables, he decides, too many things he can't control when he does see him again and that's what's bothering him. Because he's never wanted to intrude upon Jaskier's life and what if he's no longer wanted in it?

As they make their way up to their room, Geralt is vaguely aware of Eskel talking to someone behind the bar, but he's too distracted to hear what they're saying. He continues up after Lambert, falling into bed without a second thought and shutting his eyes. He doesn't have to worry about anything else until the morning. 

The morning comes much too quickly and when Geralt opens his eyes, he's staring up into Lambert's face, grinning at him. He groans and rolls over, but the other Witcher is having none of it and Gerlt is quickly pulled up and out of bed. He grumbles about it, but he knows if he was alone, he'd be the one pushing himself to get up and get this over with. 

If Jaskier is happy, all he has to do is make sure of it and he can leave again. If he's lucky there will be a contract nearby and he can get right back into his normal routine and not have to think about bards or their lovers ever again. They get downstairs and Geralt skips breakfast, eager to get on with things and have this done with. Eskel and Lambert follow along behind him and he makes for the university. 

They split up again and everyone Geralt talks to has seen him recently, but no one has seen him in the last two days, nor can they suggest where to look. Not until after noon when Eskel comes up to him, grinning from ear to ear and all but dragging Lambert behind him. 

"He's outside the city, near the south beach." 

Geralt's stomach flips and for a second, he thinks he stops breathing altogether. Jaskier is so close. He turns immediately toward the inn to collect Roach when they get there, Lambert stops him.

"Do you want us to stay here?" he asks and Geralt shakes his head. He's liable to see Jaskier with someone else and run in the opposite direction if he goes alone, and he knows he'll regret it if he does. 

The three of them head for the gate at an easy pace because Geralt doesn't want to ride. He's thrumming with anxious energy and he needs to keep himself busy, to distract from what he's about to do. So he walks between Eskel and Lambert's horses, not falling behind once. 

They stop at the first house they see and when Geralt knocks on the door, he's directed further south, to the last house. He thanks the woman and continues on, and when he spots the house, separated from the rest of the others and barely visible through the thin trees his heart stops. 

There's nothing special about it other than being much smaller than the rest of the houses nearby and set a little closer to the river, but Geralt can't tear his eyes away from it. He never knew Jaskier owned a home, or maybe it's new. _Fuck_. Maybe he's planning on settling here with the new lover everyone talks about. Whoever he is, he's obviously something special to Jaskier and Geralt suddenly feels very much like he's intruding because if this is Jaskier's house, he's found something good for himself and he'll be safe here. Who is Geralt to take that from him? 

He takes a step backward before turning and he can barely think through the sound of blood rushing through his ears and everything is so _loud_. Then Lambert's hand is on his shoulder and Geralt hears himself saying they have to leave and when he looks at Lambert he sighs.

"You were right about him," he says, “he’s not just a friend.” Lambert nods slowly, understanding. 

"Okay?"

"We can't stay, I can't risk putting him in danger again." He clicks his tongue for Roach to follow and starts away, but through the cacophony in his mind, one tiny sound slips through. 

It's just a click, just the sound of a lock turning, and Geralt freezes in place. The sound is so quiet he's not even sure Eskel or Lambert hear it, but it's followed by a much louder creak and they both turn back toward the house. Geralt stands still, not turning around, but then he hears his own name, just barely above a whisper.

"Geralt?"

His resolve breaks with just one word. He knows he shouldn't turn around, but his body moves without his permission, spinning back to seek out the voice. Ahead of him now, the house remains the same, but a figure stands between it and them, clad only in an unbuttoned shirt and loose trousers and Geralt breaks. Jaskier calls for him again and Geralt stumbles forward a few steps before catching himself. It doesn't stop him from letting Jaskier approach, closing the distance between them in second. 

This close, Geralt is overwhelmed by the scent of him, lavender and spice punctuated by the tang of sweat. He's so relieved to find him safe and in one piece that his legs nearly give way under him. But Jaskier has an odd look on his face, on Geralt can't quite place and as he takes a step closer, it breaks into a smile and Geralt can't think about anything but having him there in front of him.

Jaskier reaches for him and Geralt falls into his arms, winding around him and tugging him into his chest. _Gods_ , he hadn't realized just how badly he'd missed him until now. 

"What are you doing here?" Jaskier mumbles into his shoulder. Geralt isn't quite sure how to explain. 

Behind them, Lambert coughs conspicuously and Geralt has never been so glad for an interruption. He realizes belatedly that he's still wrapped around the bard, but Jaskier's arms are still firm around his back and he doesn't feel so bad about it. Carefully, he steps away and to the side, gesturing toward the other Witchers.

"These are my brothers," he says, "Eskel and Lambert."

"About time," Jaskier grins, looking up at them, "I was beginning to think you didn't want to meet any other Witchers." He's not exactly wrong, but Geralt isn't about to tell him that. 

"Probably didn't," Lambert agrees, giving Geralt a knowing look. 

"Got too many stories he doesn't want anyone knowing about," Eskel adds and Jaskier visibly brightens at that. 

"Well, I think that settles it," he says, "you can stay for dinner and tell me some of these stories." 

Jaskier grins up at him and Geralt couldn't tell him no even if he wanted to. They could all use the rest and Geralt feels like the lack of sleep and all the stress is finally coming crashing down on him. He doesn't have the energy to fight it, and he likes having Jaskier and his brothers together more than he cares to admit. 

Jaskier ushers them all toward the front of the house and gestures for them to sit down and relax. Geralt, for one, plops himself right down and Jaskier brushes his fingers along his shoulders as he passes. Geralt melts under the touch and along with his tension, his willpower slips. Even as Eskel and Lambert sit with him, removing their swords and settling in the grass, Geralt is thinking about Jaskier's hands. 

"Well," Eskel starts, leaning back and crossing his arms behind his head, "he seems alright. You gonna ask him about this mystery man of his?"

"No." The answer is blunt, unexpected even from himself and Geralt shrugs to soften his response. 

"Geralt-" Lambert says, but Geralt cuts him off. Whatever he's about to say, he doesn't want to hear it and more than that, he doesn't want Jaskier to hear it. He wants Jaskier to be happy and he doesn't need his own feelings getting mixed up in that.

No one has a chance to say anything further, despite the twin looks of frustration of Eskel and Lambert's faces because Jaskier returns with bread and fruit. The silence that joins him is uncomfortable and Jaskier seems to sense it without even looking at them. He sets the food down between them, returns for a bottle of wine and plops himself down next to Geralt in the grass. 

"So," he says, "not that I'm not thrilled to have a horde of Witchers show up on my lawn, but how did all of you wind up in Oxenfurt?" Geralt pauses and his brothers both look to him expectantly. Jaskier turns to look at him, his expression fading into one of concern. "Geralt? Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," he says, tilting his head in Jaskier's direction, "it is now."

"Now?" Jaskier asks and Geralt silently curses his brothers' lack of input.

"I was worried," Geral mumbles, "you didn't meet me when we'd planned, I thought something might have happened."

"Oh, Geralt, I'm sorry-"

"You don't-"

"No. I meant to send word with one of the professors. I've been busy with, well, I've been busy and it slipped my mind. I never meant to worry you."

"I should be the one apologizing," Geralt says and he can practically hear Lambert rolling his eyes. "We shouldn't have come unannounced."

"Don't be ridiculous," Jaskier scoffs, "I only wish I'd had a little longer to prepare things. But! That doesn't matter now. Let's eat and I can show you around when we're finished. Tell me about your trip," he says and the three Witchers look at each other, each expecting one of the others to start. Jaskier casts a questioning look between them before settling on Geralt. "I take it it was interesting."

"Got to meet Priscilla," Geralt mumbles.

"Among others," Lambert adds. 

"Oh?"

"I don't think we need to get into that," Geralt says, but he knows Lambert won't just drop this. 

"Is the house yours?" Eskel asks and Geralt is simultaneously relieved and distressed at the same time when Jaskier nods and smiles. If Jaskier bought a house, he must be settling down, there's no question about it. Which means accepting the fact that he won't be a part of Geralt's life anymore. 

He sits back, trying no to show his disappointment as Eskel chats away to Jaskier, quickly diverting the topic of conversation. Lambert stares at him until Geralt can't stand it anymore and turns to scowl in his direction. He knows what Lambert wants to say and he knows he wants to bring up the mysterious lover, but Geralt would rather just finish their meal and leave. If he's going to leave Jaskier, he doesn't want to muddy things up with feelings and confessions that should just be left alone. 

They carry on like this until their dinner is finished and the wine bottle lies empty between them. Jaskier announces he's going to get another bottle, but Lambert stands up and grabs Geralt by the arm, tugging him to his feet.

"We'll get it," he says and drags him up toward the house. He doesn't go inside and stops just short of the front path, turning on Geralt. 

"Tell him," he says and Geralt just looks at him. "I know you're planning on coming with us and leaving him here alone, but I'm telling you don't do that."

"Lambert, you heard what they all said," he whispers, "I can't stay if he's-"

"Do you see anyone else here? Smell anyone else? Smell _him_?"

"Yes, obviously. He's been on edge since we arrived."

"Nervous," Lambert corrects, "he's nervous. But he didn't flinch when I mentioned the others. He's not nervous about someone else showing up."

"Lambert-"

Lambert's demeanour softens and he reaches out to press a hand to Geralt's shoulder. "Don't fuck this up. I was too proud to tell Aiden and now I have to live with that. It's been what? Three decades? The worst he can say is that he doesn't feel the same. He's not going to just abandon you, Geralt. He loves you too much for that." 

Lambert pulls away and turns back toward the river and Geralt is left alone, standing and staring after him. When he can get his feet to move, he follows after Lambert, but when he finds them again, all three are standing. 

"We should head back to the city," Lambert is saying and he gives Geralt a piercing look. "We'll leave you two to catch up." He whistles for his horse and pulls himself up into the saddle. 

Eskel rolls his eyes from behind him, approaching Geralt with a soft smile. He pulls him into a firm embrace, leaning over his shoulder.

"Good luck," he says. "You know where we are if you need us."

"Thanks again," Geralt mumbles, but he's feeling more than a little bit betrayed as Eskel pulls away and mounts his own horse. 

They say another quick goodbye and Lambert turns over his shoulder, winking before urging his horse forward. Geralt is left floundering, unsure where he stands and uncomfortable to be left alone with Jaskier for the first time in his life. He stands and watches after them, waiting long enough that Jaskier steps up behind him and rests a hand on his forearm. 

"I can't say I was expecting to see you so soon," Jaskier says, but it sounds forced and Geralt wonders if he left now, if he could catch up with Eskel and Lambert before they reach the inn. 

"I'm sorry," he says without turning, "I wanted to make sure you were alright, I didn't mean to intrude."

"Ah, that's not what I meant," Jaskier says. He tugs on Geralt's elbow, turning him so they're facing each other, "I'm happy to see you again and to know you were worried about me. I missed you. I always miss you during the winter. I just..." he sighs and meets Geralt's eyes for the first time. "I meant for this to be a surprise."

Jaskier shrugs and says something else, but Geralt is too distracted to hear it. If this is all supposed to be a surprise, it's not a very good one. 

"I understand if you don't want to come with me," he says, impressed with how steady he keeps his voice. Jaskier's eyebrows knit together and he looks confused and a little upset. 

"Why wouldn't I? I told you I meant to leave word with the innkeep in Piana, I've just had a lot on my mind."

"I know. Jaskier, you don't have to hide things from me, I know you're..." his chest tightens and he can't even make himself say the words. 

"I'm what?" Jaskier asks.

"In love."

"Oh." Immediately, Jaskier's cheeks flare a dark pink and he starts fumbling over his words, babbling endlessly and apologizing for not telling him earlier and Geralt doesn't understand why he would be owed an explanation. He says as much and Jaskier stops dead, staring straight at him. After a second, he softens and something like worry crosses his face.

"You don't know," he says and it's not a question, but a realization. Geralt shakes his head in affirmation and Jaskier exhales slowly. "Come," he says, "let's sit by the water." Jaskier lets his hand slide down, twining his fingers between Geralt's. 

He lets himself be led down to the edge of the river, expecting to be let down lightly or worse, to have to hear about how perfect this new man is that Jaskier's found. Jaskier drops to the ground and tugs Geralt down beside him. He pulls his hand back and twists his hands in his lap. 

"This isn't at all how I hoped to tell you," he says, injecting a false humour to his words that falls flat. 

"Jaskier," Geralt says softly, "I know. We had to speak to a lot of people to track you down and all of them said the same thing. I know you've found someone and I know you won't want me-" jealousy wells in his chest, bright and burning and it takes everything in him not to let it come out as anger. "I know he's wonderful and you want to be with him and I can't-"

"Geralt, it's you."

Geralt looks up from where he's been laser-focused on the small patch of sand between them. Jaskier isn't looking at him and he doesn't know what to say because he wants clarification. Because how could he believe Jaskier would love him? But the confession lingers between them and Geralt can't breathe. 

"What?" is all he can manage and Jaskier finally looks up at him. 

"The person they've all been talking about, I think it's you. I wanted somewhere for you to stay if you needed it and somewhere you could come to if you needed a break - somewhere where you would always be welcome and no one would bother you. I’ve been working on the house for a long time and I might have mentioned you in passing." 

Geralt feels like he could combust at any given moment and Jaskier isn't making things any clearer. But he looks so small and sheepish and Geralt has never seen him like this before; Jaskier is always confident in everything he does. 

"I thought about it over the last few winters," he says, looking up with a small smile, "told you I missed you. I guess I hoped if you had somewhere else to go, you might not have to travel quite so far away. You don't have to stay of course, but-" 

Geralt's head reels with the realization that Jaskier is trying to keep him closer, not push him away and he surges forward without thinking. Their lips touch only for a second before Jaskier tumbles backward into the grass, looking up at him. He's still for a moment before his heartbeat picks up and then his hands are on him, scrabbling at the back of his neck and pulling him closer. 

Geralt drops to his elbows, letting himself be pulled close and Jaskier's mouth finds his again. He's soft and warm and he sighs softly when Geralt's fingers tentatively brush through his hair. Jaskier wraps around him, fully engrossed in the kiss and when he rolls Geralt onto his back, straddling his hips, Geralt can't really be bothered to tell him he didn't actually mean to kiss him. He doesn't think Jaskier would be interested anyway. 

When they finally break apart, Jaskier's chest heaves as he smiles down at him and he's never looked quite as lovely as he does now. Geralt smiles softly and draws him in again, kissing him slow and sweet. 

"Does this mean you like it?" Jaskier asks, pressing his nose to Geralt's. Relief washes over him and Geralt sighs softly, smiling.

"It's lovely, Jaskier. More than I deserve."

"It's not. You deserve the best."

"Hmm."

"Do you forgive me for being late?"

"Of course," Geralt laughs softly. Jaskier hums and sits back on Geralt's thighs, offering a hand to pull him into a sitting position. 

"Do you want to come look at the rest of the house?"

"Very much."

Jaskier climbs off of him and Geralt is tempted to pull him back down and tell him the house can wait till later. But Jaskier stands and collects the dishes, so Geralt pushes himself up and follows him into the house. 

"It's nothing special," Jaskier shrugs, "but I think it will work for us." It's a question of sorts and Geralt comes up behind him, barely resisting the urge to touch him again. But Jaskier says _us_ so casually and Geralt can't help himself. He winds his arms around Jaskier's waist and fits himself up against his back. 

"It's perfect."

Jaskier looks back at him over his shoulder and smiles. "You'll have your very own bath," he adds, "you'll just need to fill it yourself. And there's only one bed," he says, gesturing toward the room to the right. "But we've shared before and I thought you'd rather have a bath than-" 

Geralt kisses him then, awkwardly at first, but Jaskier turns in his arms and lets Geralt walk him backward until his thighs hit the table. Geralt hums against him, cupping his face as Jaskier's lips part easily and he winds his arms around Geralt's neck, pushing into his hair. Jaskier presses against him and when he moans softly, Geralt's body reacts immediately. 

He pushes everything from the table with one hand and lifts Jaskier up onto it, straying from his lips to kiss his neck and Jaskier is incredibly vocal about his approval. He groans with every touch and when Geralt nips at his skin, Jaskier's fingers tangle in his hair, tugging faintly. 

"Does this mean the bed is okay?" he huffs. He's surprisingly breathless already and Geralt finds he quite likes the sound of him like this. 

"The bed is fine," is all he says before pushing between Jaskier's thighs and kissing him hard and hot. His hands fall to the front of Jaskier's trousers, unlacing them quickly and with ease. His knuckles brush against Jaskier's cock where it's hard and straining against the soft fabric. A low moan slips from his lips and Geralt barely resists the urge to just shove his hand down Jaskier's trousers and _squeeze_. He stops himself just short and looks up to meet Jaskier's eyes, a decision he very nearly regrets. Jaskier's eyes are dark, the thin blue ring barely visible around his pupils and he stares at Geralt with such an intensity that it's almost palpable.

" _Fuck_ ," he mutters and Jakier's lips part invitingly. Gods, it's no wonder Jaskier gets all these people to fall into bed with him. He's startlingly beautiful like this; Jaskier is always beautiful, but when he's open and willing he's just stunning. And the way his attention focuses so directly is intoxicating, like nothing else in the world matters while Geralt's hands are on him, his body pressed between his thighs. 

It's overwhelming to be the focus of so much want and attention and… _love_. He doesn't know how to cope with it. But when Jaskier tips forward and kisses him again, he finds it’s easiest to just go with it. Geralt presses his palm to Jaskier's chest, tugging his shirt out from where it was tucked into his trousers and pushing down until his fingertips brush against the hem of them. Jaskier mumbles something against his lips that he doesn't quite understand, but he likes the feel of his breath against his mouth and the brush of his lips. 

Geralt dips his fingers lower, pushing Jaskier's trousers open as he wraps a hand around his length. Jaskier's stiff as iron and he groans as Geralt strokes him slowly right up to the head. Geralt's thumb rubs against the underside of the head and up over the slit and Jaskier's head nearly hits the wall behind him before Geralt catches him, cradling his head in one hand. 

He leans back in, holding Jaskier against him as he aligns their mouths again, sucking lightly at Jaskier's bottom lip. He runs his tongue along it, stroking Jaskier as he leans in closer. And Jaskier makes the most delightful noises when Geralt squeezes around the head, whimpers softly and bites at his lips. 

Jaskier gets his legs around his hips, digging his feels into Geralt's ass and pulls him closer. He moans as Geralt's hand slows around him and presses his hips up to meet him, huffing against his mouth. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something but Geralt leans back, considering the pleasure written on his face before pressing a final kiss to his lips and dropping to his knees. Jaskier's breath catches and his eyes flick down, to meet Geralt's again. 

Jaskier looks so beautiful like this and Geralt tests his allowances, tipping forward to press his lips to the head of Jaskier's cock. When he slips his lips down over him, Jaskier lets out a choked, “ _fuck, Geralt-_ ” that has Geralt’s cock twitching in his trousers. 

Geralt takes him down deep, groaning as Jaskier’s fingers scrabble at his hair. It’s been a long time since he’s done this, but he loves the weight of Jaskier’s cock on his tongue, the heady scent of him as he presses his nose into his stomach. Jaskier’s cock nudges against the back of his throat and Geralt slides one hand up his chest and as the other moves over his thigh, Jaskier takes it and squeezes it, lacing their fingers together as his head drops back again. It’s all Geralt can do to ignore the aching in his own groin, the press of fabric against his cock every time he shifts, but he’s determined to prove himself worthy of Jaskier’s affections. 

But when Jaskier gets worked up, he starts babbling incoherently, spouting off meaningless praise in cut-off sentences and clawing at Geralt’s shoulders. It’s hotter than it has any right to be and Geralt wonders how long it would take to get Jaskier off with only his mouth. 

“Fuck, you’re... you’re good at that-” Jaskier huffs and Geralt lets himself be distracted for a moment, glancing up at Jaskier and letting himself be pulled up and off his cock. Jaskier fists a hand in his shirt, hauling him forward so they’re nose to nose and Geralt hums. 

“I’m good at many things,” he mumbles and Jaskier breathes out a desperate, " _I bet you are_ " before sliding a hand over his jaw and tugging him forward to kiss him. 

His free hand moves down, fumbling with the buttons on Geralt's trousers and he's none too graceful about it. He lets himself get distracted, rubbing him through the fabric before he can get all the buttons undone. But when he does, he wastes no time pulling Geralt's cock out and stroking him quickly. He slips off the table and presses up against him, stroking him in time with his kisses and gods, does he feel good.

But Geralt wants more. He winds an arm around Jaskier's waist and hauls him close, close enough that their hips collide and his cock presses up against Jaskier's, slotting perfectly alongside him. He rolls his hips, revelling in the grind and the soft noises that spill from Jaskier's lips. 

Geralt plans a hand on the table behind him, keeping the other firmly against Jaskier's lower back to hold him close. They find a steady rhythm between them, gasping and groaning into what little space finds its way between their lips. 

It's with some difficulty that Geralt finally gets Jaskier out of his shirt and trousers because Jaskier barely lets him alone for a moment, pawing at him and biting his lips and jaw. He doesn't even have time to speak, which is a miracle as far as Geralt is concerned, though certainly not the time for it. Geralt presses his nose against Jaskier's temple, letting his lips drag softly against his cheek. 

"Talk to me," he breathes and Jaskier's breath hitches. 

"Sorry," he huffs, "it's just- I didn't expect you to want this, it's all a little..."

"Overwhelming?" Geralt offers and Jaskier laughs. 

"Hmm."

"Something like that." 

Geralt kisses his ear, traces a line with his lips down to the bolt of Jaskier's jaw and then dips down, hauling him back up into his arms. Jaskier wraps around him immediately, pushing at Geralt's shirt until he gets him out of it and when it's lying on the floor with his own clothes, he slips his hands lower. His trousers prove to be more difficult, held in place by Jaskier's legs around him, but he doesn't waste time on them, instead gripping Geralt's cock and pulling it up against his own 

He wraps both hands around them, confident in Geralt to support him, and strokes slowly, just letting his fingertips brush over their cockheads as he pulls up. The sensation goes straight through Geralt, so close to what he wants and not nearly enough. He heaves Jaskier up, pressing him flush against his chest so he can grind against him, but it barely lasts a minute before Geralt pushes away from the table and drops him on the bed. He fumbles to get out of his trousers, pushing them to the floor before climbing up over Jaskier and fitting his body against him. 

Their cocks slot together with easy precision and Jaskier's hands find their way to Geralt's hips as he arches off the bed. He pulls him closer, jerks his hips a little harder and Geralt wants to keep him like this forever. He doesn't have the words, so he kisses the feelings into Jaskier's skin, whispers it into every touch. He curls his arm above Jaskier's head, pushing his fingers into his hair and tugging his head up to mouth at his neck. 

The response he gets is surprising and he gives another quick tug just to hear the desperate little sounds that pull from Jaskier's throat. He traces his tongue up the length of it, feeling the vibrations through his lips and he's never thought sex could be like _this_. 

" _Gods_ ," Jaskier groans, "those things you're good at, how many of them involve that tongue of yours?" Geralt huffs against him, giving a sharp thrust of his hips that has Jaskier's breath coming out in shuddering puffs. "Hey-" he groans and when Geralt doesn't let up, he shuts his eyes and pulls his hands up to Geralt's hair. "Not that you're not perfect exactly the way you are, but if you could-" Geralt rolls his hips again, slow and languid and Jaskier's fingernails press into his scalp. 

"Geralt it's just that it's- _oh gods_ \- it's been a while and I don't know how long this is gonna last if you keep doing-" he moans loudly, even as he traps his lip between his teeth as Geralt's cock rubs against his own. "Yeah," Jaskier pants, "that."

"Don't hold back," Geralt huffs, arching his back as he sucks marks into Jaskier's skin. "I've wanted this-" he cuts himself off with a groan and it only takes a second for Jaskier's mouth to find his again, effectively shutting him up. 

Jaskier wraps his arms around his shoulders, one hand sliding down to grip his ass for leverage. He works his hips in short, sharp bursts moaning and gasping with every thrust and Geralt runs his hand along his side, digging his fingers into his skin. Jaskier's thighs shake against him and Geralt slides his arm around one of them, lifting it up over his waist and driving his hips hard against him. If Jaskier means half of what he said earlier, this is far from the last time he'll be with him like this, and it really doesn't matter anyway because neither of them is going to last long enough for him to fuck him properly. 

But he wants to. _Gods_ , he longs to feel Jaskier wrapped around him, squeezing around his cock and pulling every last bit of pleasure from his body. He doesn't realize he's talking out loud, mumbling into Jaskier's skin how badly he wants him, not until Jaskier responds. 

"Should've told me earlier," he huffs, "'s gonna have to wait- wouldn't make it past having your fingers in me." 

He grunts and shoves a hand between them, wrapping awkwardly around them both and jerking roughly. Geralt's response gets smothered by his own moan or Jaskier's - he isn't sure. But it doesn't matter because now _that_ image is in his head and fuck, he's so close. 

"Later," he breathes and Jaskier squeaks out an _mmhm_ before his hips twitch and he scrabbles to pull Geralt's mouth down against his own. 

Jaskier kisses him slow and deep as he spills between them, moaning into his mouth as his seed slicks their skin. He continues thrusting, using his leg to pull Geralt closer against him and the increased slickness only pushes him closer to the edge. 

"Fuck," Jaskier whispers, "that's right, darling, come on." 

He drops his own cock, gripping firmly around Geralt's. And Geralt can barely think. He thrusts into the tunnel of Jaskier's hand, hips twitching with every forward motion.

"Fuck, Jas-" 

"That's it, love," Jaskier hums, running one hand up over Geralt's shoulder and around the back of his neck. "Mm, so beautiful. Gods, you have no idea how good you look right now, do you? _Fuck_. I love you."

Jaskier tips his head so Geralt's eyes meet his and he barely registers Jaskier's hand on his face before he's coming, fucking between Jaskier's fingers and pressing his face into his shoulder. In the background, he's vaguely aware of Jaskier speaking, telling him he's good and petting his hair, but it's all in the background. Under him, Jaskier is soft and there's a pleasant warmth that seeps into Geralt's limbs. 

He rolls onto his back, raising one arm to brush against Jaskier's arm. He hums and shuts his eyes, but Jaskeier slips up against him, pressing into his side and resting his head on Geralt's shoulder. 

"Well," he breathes, "I was not expecting that. 

"Hmm." Geralt's body is heavy and sleep is already creeping up on him, but Jaskier huffs a soft laugh and presses his nose into his neck. 

"Sorry, darling, you have to get up." Geralt grunts and presses his nose into Jaskier's hair. "Geralt?" Jaskier asks softly, sitting up to run his hands through his hair. "When was the last time you slept?"

He shrugs. He doesn't know when the last time he slept properly was, but now Jaskier is safe and sound and with nothing left to worry about for the time being, he's exhausted.

"Okay," Jaskier breathes, "sleep then, love, I'll come back for you when I'm ready." 

Geralt doesn't know how long he sleeps for, but he wakes to a soft weight pressing down next to him on the bed. He gives one soft grunt of protest, but then Jaskier's hands are bracketing his shoulders and Geralt opens his eyes. Above him, Jaskier is still naked and grinning. 

"There's a bath ready for you," he says. Geralt is hesitant at first, but Jaskier dips down, kissing him fleetingly and he gives in. 

He lets himself be manhandled out of bed and into the tub. The water is steaming and Geralt sinks into it, letting the hot water roll over him, soothing the ache in his limbs. His eyes drop shut again, but the sudden scent of lavender tells him Jaskier has his oils out. It's been a long time since they've done anything like this and Geralt misses it dearly when they're apart. Though, he supposes, they won't have to part so often anymore. Maybe if he's lucky, Jaskier will let him return the favour. 

He sinks lower into the tub, imagining himself in Jaskier's position, spreading oil between his palms and rubbing his shoulders. He's not as delicate as Jaskier, nor as talented, but he's sure he could do a good enough job at it. He's memorized the way Jaskier's fingers trail along his skin and it would be easy enough to replicate it. 

Jaskier tips him forward and Geralt goes easily with the motion as a bucket of water is dumped over his head. As he leans back, Jaskier's fingers slip through the strands, working out the dirt and grime and massaging his scalp. Geralt can't help but imagine it in reverse, how Jaskier would sigh and moan under his hands and his cock twitches against his thigh. He hums as Jaskier's fingers move down, slipping up the column of Geralt's throat and back down to dip under the water. 

There's a very faint huff of amusement and Jaskier's head dips down to rest on his shoulder, his hand sliding closer to Geralt's cock. Fingers wrap around the base of him, pushing slowly up to the head and Geralt groans, tipping his head back to look at Jaskier. 

"Hard again already?" he asks, his voice light but teasing. Geralt slips lower, pushing up against Jaskier's hand but doesn't speak. He tips his chin, catching Jaskier's lips in a soft kiss. 

"You don't have to," he breathes but Jaskier just deepens the kiss and slips around to the side of the tub. He takes Geralt's hand, lifting it and pressing it against his own growing erection. Geralt's fingers curl around him as heat coils deep within him. He reaches up with his other hand, sitting up straighter and pulling Jaskier close. 

Getting Jaskier out of his clothes is much quicker the second time around, considering he's now dressed only in a pair of trousers, and he makes quick work of getting Jaskier into the bath with him. Jaskier fits into his lap like he belongs there, forgetting Geralt's cock in favour of kissing him, arms winding loosely around his neck. 

Geralt indulges him for a few minutes, letting his fingers slip into Jaskier's hair as Jaskier kisses his way down his chest. His head tips back as Jaskier mouths at his neck, but Jaskier gets a hand between them, wrapping around his cock and Geralt's patience runs short. Despite his earlier teasing, Jaskier's breath catches when Geralt rolls his hips up. He exhales shakily, pushing his hips down to meet him and Geralt tips his chin up with a smirk. 

"Hard again already?" he asks and Jaskier stares at him in shock for a second before Geralt bundles him up into his arms and lifts him out of the water. Jaskier squawks, but Geralt quiets him with a quick kiss, stepping out of the tub and toward the bed. 

"Hey," Jaskier huffs, pulling back, "remember we still have to sleep in this bed, try not to get it too wet?" 

“I’ll try.”

Geralt wakes to something warm pressing against his chest. Instinctively, his ears prick for any sign of danger, but soft breath dusts over his neck and he relaxes. Memories from the night before flood back and he settles back into the bed, reaching up to wrap both arms around Jaskier's sleeping form. He smiles softly to himself, shutting his eyes and inhaling slowly. Against him, Jaskier shifts and presses his lips to Geralt's shoulder. 

"Good morning," he mumbles, "did you sleep well?"

"Very."

"You were out pretty quick last night," Jaskier hums, "when was the last time you got a proper night's sleep?" The warmth that fills Geralt's chest recedes and his arms cinch a little tighter about Jaskier's waist. "Geralt?"

"Not since I left Kaer Morhen." He can hear Jaskier's questions coming before he speaks, and Geralt answers first. "I was worried," he says, "wasn't sure what happened to you."

"I'm sorry I made you worry. I should have sent word-"

"No," Geralt says softly, "it was a good surprise." Jaskier shifts, nuzzling against his neck and kissing the underside of his jaw. 

"Will you stay?" he asks. "I know you have to get back to monster hunting and whatnot, but stay for a couple of nights at least?"

"Of course."

"And what about Eskel and Lambert?"

"Not likely. They've probably left the city by now, I've held them up long enough."

"I’m glad they helped you.”

When Geralt doesn't reply, the room falls silent, just the soft puffs of their breath in the quiet and Geralt suddenly finds himself in need of something to break it. He considers broaching the subject of Kaer Morhen; if Jaskier accompanies him this winter, he could get to know Eskel and Lambert properly. Or, he considers, maybe they could stay here for the winter. The house is small but sturdy and Geralt is sure it would keep them plenty warm through the winter. Warmer, anyway, than many of their previous lodgings. 

But, he thinks, houses need maintenance to keep them sturdy and what if Jaskier forgoes travelling to keep this little escape ready for them for the winter. He hadn't considered that, and he doesn't like the thought of it now. Last night it seemed like everything he wanted was within his reach, but now the reality of it settles in. Maybe Jaskier does love him as he says, but sacrifices must be made to keep him - sacrifices Geralt doesn't want to make. Already he only sees his brothers once a year and to have to choose between them and Jaskier- to go a full two years without seeing one or the other-

"What are you thinking about?" Jaskier asks, abruptly snapping Geralt out of his thoughts, "your breath sounds funny, are you alright?" Carefully, Geralt considers his words, thinks about what he wants to say and how much he wants to tell Jaskier. He doesn't want him to worry - or to change his mind.

"When I do leave," he says softly, slipping his hand gently from Jaskier's back and up into his hair. "Will you join me?"

Jaskier lets out a deep breath that morphs into a laugh as he pushes himself up to look at Geralt. "Of course I will. Is that all you were worried about?"

"Hmm."

"Talk to me, love, this is a safe place."

The words stick in the back of his throat, but Geralt reminds himself that Jaskier put a lot of time and energy into this house, not knowing if Geralt would accept it, or him. The least he can do is be honest with him. 

"It's not that I don't appreciate your effort," he starts and Jaskier, to his credit, keeps surprisingly calm where he's perched on Geralt’s chest. "I just- I rarely see my brothers and I don't want to lose what time I have with them, I know it's selfish-"

"No," Jaskier shakes his head, reaching up to cup Geralt's jaw, "not at all. The house isn't an obligation, Geralt. It will be here whether we are or not, a safe place to return to when we do need it." He smiles softly, brushing his fingers along Geralt's cheek. "And when you do go up north, I'll have somewhere to stay that isn't damp and musty and shared. And," he adds, "you'll always know where to find me come spring." 

Geralt can't help the grin that pulls at the corner of his lips and Jaskier's smile widens in response. 

"Or maybe," Geralt suggests, moving his fingers softly against Jaskier's head, "you could come with me some winters? The valley is beautiful, I think you'd like it." Jaskier stills and stares at him like he's waiting for Geralt to take back the offers. Then, after a moment, his features relax. 

"You're serious?" he asks, "I thought you said you could count on one hand the people who have seen the inside of the keep?"

"An exaggeration," Geralt shrugs, smiling, "and what harm is one bard?"

"A lot, according to you and your brothers," Jaskier huffs, but the humour quickly fades into sincerity. "But honestly, Geralt, I'd be honoured to accompany you home for the winter. I think after so many years it's about time I met your family." He presses a soft kiss to the corner of Geralt's mouth, resting his head against his shoulder. "And when spring comes again, our house will be waiting for us. For whenever we need it."

Jaskier's breath is warm and soft against his neck and Geralt shuts his eyes, focusing on the warm mass of Jaskier's body against him. He likes the sound of that.


End file.
